


Sands of Time

by WaywardSpark



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Injury, Missing Scene, Parent Carol Danvers, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), mentions of the avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 19:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardSpark/pseuds/WaywardSpark
Summary: It’s been instilled into her since before her time with the Krees, since before, even, her time in the forces: grief is indulgent, emotions are selfish, mourning takes time other people don’t have the patience to witness. It's all a distraction from the job. She’s never really listened, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t absorb any of it.Carol looks back on her visits to Earth and her time with her family, uncertain of their fate after the snap.





	Sands of Time

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to believe Carol didn't visit Earth once in 23 years. Anyway, here is my take on some of the missing scenes between Captain Marvel and Endgame.

Carol doesn’t allow herself to look for too long at the list of the dead. 

She sees Fury’s name and it burns into her, weighing heavy on her chest, in her throat, in her burning eyes, but she knows there’s no time to grieve. There’s no time to allow her eyes to stray down into the R’s of the list, to indulge her masochistic curiosity. 

Her job here is to kill Thanos. Mourning does nothing to help. All she can do is focus on the task ahead of her, and then the next one, and the next one.

It’s been instilled into her since before her time with the Krees, since before, even, her time in the forces: grief is indulgent, emotions are selfish, mourning takes time other people don’t have the patience to witness. It's all a distraction from the job. She’s never really listened, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t absorb any of it. Old habits, and all that. Besides, with a thousand planets to take care of, it’s not bad advice.

She doesn’t think of Maria and Monica. 

When she sees the Avengers’ awe and thrill at being outside of Earth for the first time, she doesn’t think of Maria’s gleeful face when she first took her to space. When Nebula rolls her eyes petulantly at an offhand comment, she doesn’t think of Monica in her teen years, during one of the few times Carol was able to find the time to come home. 

And when they find the stones destroyed, _reduced to atoms_ , and beyond any hope of getting them back, she absolutely does not feel crushing pain and fear that her family is gone for good (She doesn’t even know if they’re gone at all, for god’s sake.)

When they witness Thanos’ head being cut clean off, rolling on the floor several feet away from the lifeless body, it’s the breaking point for everyone: Thor storms away, refusing to look anyone in the eye; Nebula kneels by the body and weeps, for her captor, her father, her abuser; Bruce smashes the table in an empty burst of rage. And Carol finally, finally, stops holding herself back from thinking of them

They walk away from the hut in stunned silence, back to the ship. While the others are slow, almost frozen with shock and guilt and grief, Carol walks a little farther ahead with a determined stride, a new mission in mind. 

_Please,_ she begs to no one. _Please let them be safe. Let them be alive._

_________________________________________________________

1995

“So, you got all your memories back yet?” Maria asks casually one evening as they wash the dishes together. 

Carol shrugs. “Who knows. Hard to know what you’ve forgotten once it’s gone, right?”

“Yeah. True.” Her voice sounds tense. Even though Carol’s only remembered her for three days now, and the dynamic between them is somewhat disjointed and cautious after so many years of separation, she’s become intimately tuned into Maria’s body language, her voice, her emotions again. And right now, she can tell there is something bothering Maria, more than usual at least. Carol rests her soapy hand on hers and squeezes.

“You got something on your mind?” 

Maria sighs. “You know me too well. Yeah, I do. But - it’s kinda awkward to bring up. You don't have to say anything, and - You know what? Let's just forget about this - “

“Oh, but now I want to know even more." She elbows Maria playfully, and then when that doesn't work, puts on her best puppy eyes with a 100% success rate. "Please tell me?"

Maria puts down the dishcloth and leans with her back against the counter, a crease forming between her eyebrows. Right. Serious discussion, then. “So, I’ve been wondering about your memories. About how much you know about the last few months before the crash.”

“Very little,” Carol admits. “Just the basics of the work we were doing. Of us going to bars and watching TV and hanging out. Raising Monica. That kind of thing.”

“Oh. Nothing else?”

“Nope.”

“Right.” Maria exhales, nods, goes back to drying the dishes. “Okay, then.”

Carol is unconvinced. “Maria,” she says. “I’ve spent the last six years being lied to about my past and my identity. Whatever it is, I’d rather just know.”

There’s a pause, and Carol can practically hear the cogs whirring in Maria’s head as she weighs up whatever dilemma she’s unnecessarily burdened her mind with. “Fine. Okay. So, a few months before the crash and you disappeared and we all assumed we were dead, we had started a... relationship? Yeah, I guess that’s what it was. It was all kind of new though… ” 

_Relationship._ Carol’s breath hitches and Maria’s voice fades away. That word sparks something in her that she taught herself to ignore while living in the reason and rationality of Kree culture, where relationships other than for the purpose of procreation are rarely encouraged: a craving, for intimacy and affection and love 

The word becomes the key to whichever treasure trove some of her other memories are hiding in, and a few more come flooding back; knees touching as they sit on stools at the bar, butterflies as she catches sight of Maria in nothing but a long t-shirt on a morning, Maria’s lips against her own, soft and eager and sweet and impatient. She suddenly feels an ache in her chest that is now becoming second nature, one that pines with the realisation of what she has missed over the last few years. “Oh.”

“The penny’s dropped, huh?”

“Yeah, you could say that. So what’s your point?”

“The point is, I know it’s been a long time. It was a miracle the first time we got together, from my perspective at least, so I hardly expect there to be a second chance.” Carol frowns. Their relationship was by no means a miracle, from what she remembers. It was inevitable as the cycles of the moon. They were drawn into each other’s orbit from day one. But Maria mistakes her confusion “No, seriously, I don’t expect anything from you. And I know you have to go away soon to help the Skrees -”

“Skrulls.”

“But I’ve really missed you. A lot. I was hoping that - until you leave - we can try again.” Her dark brown eyes are wide and sincere. For the life of her, Carol can’t think of a single reason to say no. (She can think of a million - her inexperience, her years of absorbing Kree culture, her inability to commit to staying on Earth, how short the human lifespan is compared to hers, being only a few of them. But none of them seems important, right now.) “So what do you think?”

For once, this seems too precious for Carol to dive headfirst into. “It’s not going to be like it used to be.”

“I know.”

“ I’ll probably have to go away for a very long time, and very far away.”

“I’m kinda used to that by now.” 

“I’m six years out of practice for a lot of things.”

“It’s just like riding a bike, right? Besides, you’re a _very_ quick learner.”

Carol narrows her eyes at Maria, who stares defiantly back, her lips curved into a smile. She soon echoes that smile too. “You really know what you’re getting into, huh?”

“Course, I do. I knew six years ago too, didn’t I? You’re still the same person as you were back then. You just have superpowers now.” They chuckle. “So... we’re doing this?” Maria’s voice wavers with uncertainty and excitement, as though she can’t quite believe that she’s allowed to say it.

Carol grins and, stepping towards her, pulls Maria closer by her waist. Her hands are still wet and cold soapy, which she assumes is part the reason why Maria gasps and giggles when she touches her through her shirt. Their faces mere inches apart, so that she can feel the warmth of Maria’s breath on her lips, she murmurs. “We’re doing this.”

She was right: it is just like riding a bicycle. 

____________________________________________________________________

“Where you off to, Danvers?” Romanoff calls, just as Carol is about to leave. 

“Earth. Louisiana.” 

“We shouldn’t be splitting up now,” Rogers says sternly, and Carol resists the urge to roll her eyes. “It’s not over yet. We should get back to the compound and brainstorm.”

“You're kidding yourself, pal,” the raccoon (Rocket?) snaps. “Thanos is dead, the stones are disintegrated. We got nothing left.” 

“We can’t just -”

“Look, I get it, I really do,” Carol interrupts, gently but firmly. “But I have a thing to take care of first. I promise I’ll be back at the compound soon. A week, a month at most.”

“In Louisiana?” Banner says sceptically. “You’ve been in space for 23 years. What could you possibly have in Louisiana?”

Romanoff’s eyes scan Carol’s form, who stares defiantly back, hands on her hips, one challenging eyebrow raised, in the event that this woman will even try to ground her here and away from _them._ Then, Romanoff’s eyes often in understanding. “A family.”

God, she’s smart. What the hell is she doing with these idiots? 

Banner speaks, apologetically. “Are they…?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out.” And Carol leaves without a second thought or a goodbye. She’s had enough of the Avengers for one day.

__________________________________________________________________________

1999

“This is impossible,” Monica moans, leaning back in her chair so far that she almost slides off. 

“Algebra, huh?” Maria says from the kitchen, where she and Carol are making dinner. (Or rather, where Maria is making dinner, and Carol is helping where she is allowed to - simple things like cutting up the vegetables and heating them up. 

“It’s pointless. No one ever needs algebra for anything. Unless they decide to be a math teacher. Which I won’t, ever.”

“Alright, Lieutenant Trouble. Let’s see if I can help.”

“You? Mom always said you were terrible at math.” 

“Well, first of all, that is mean and inaccurate. Second of all, that was before I spent years hanging around some of the smartest and most advanced species and civilisations in the universe. I think I can cope with a bit of algebra.”

She sits down beside Maria and takes the textbook from her, spends a moment to absorb the numbers and letters on the page, then sighs. “Shit.”

“Danvers,” Maria warns. “Not around the kid.”

“It’s okay, Mom, it’s nothing I haven’t heard. I’ve seen Heathers.”

“When?!”

“Hold on, I think I remember this,” Carol says, as she starts scribbling down numbers and letters, hoping something will stick. Eventually, something comes back to her, and she hands it back to Monica. 

“Ooh, I see!”

“Yeah. And remember, I can always set fire to it if you get stuck. The teacher doesn’t need to know it wasn’t an accident.”

Monica laughs. “I’ll remember that. Thanks, Mom.”

Stunned silence. The words come out so quickly Carol is almost certain she misheard, if it wasn’t for the way Monica ducked her head to avoid Carol’s bewildered gaze, or how silent the room was, as though no one dared to even breathe. She looks over at Maria for prompting, but she seems equally shocked and thrilled and (oh, god) on the verge of happy-crying. Carol clears her throat.

“So. Mon -”

“Ignore it. It was an accident.”

Her heart sinks. “Was it?”

“Yeah. Just came out. Sorry. I made it weird.”

“No! No, you didn’t.” I didn’t mind, you know.”

“Really? But you’ve always been Auntie Carol. Even when you and Mom were together. I just assumed that’s what you preferred.”

At first, it had been to spare Monica’s confusion as a five-year-old, as well as to stay living together in peace without being harassed by the local Louisiana conservatives (of which there were many.) But still, there were times where the name felt uneasy and out of place, not quite labelling what Carol was to Monica. She half-raised her, after all, changing her diapers and making her breakfast and reading her bedtime stories.

But does she deserve to be called that now, when she’s missed so much of Monica’s childhood? 

“I’d prefer whatever you want to call me.”

Monica nods, pondering this for a moment. “Okay. I won’t call you Mom, then.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Too confusing having two Moms. So, is Ma alright?”

“Yeah.” Carol chokes back a sob and smiles. “That’s good. Right. So, let’s move on to question six…”

They glance at each other and smirk when they hear Maria stifling her sniffles in the kitchen. 

__________________________________________________________________________

Carol never really had a family until the Rambeaus. She lost contact with her parents decades ago, when they kicked her out for her joining the army. (For many reasons, really. Carol was often a disappointment.)

They could be long dead by now.

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t care.

__________________________________________________________________________

2002

What had started out as their traditional ‘what pop culture you missed out on while you were kicking ass in space’ evening whenever Carol comes home, somehow ended up with them making out like teenagers on the couch, the tv on mute. Monica is at college now, studying engineering (they couldn’t be prouder), not due to come home until tomorrow, so of course, they make the most of being in an empty house together for the first time in… God knows how long. Carol’s head is too dizzy and foggy to work it out. 

Besides, she has rather more important things to be focussing on. Like Maria’s quiet moans breathed into Carol’s mouth, the delicious friction of her thigh between Carol’s legs through their pyjamas, the softness of Maria’s skin under Carol’s fingertips as she hitches up Maria’s shirt and exposes a slither of her stomach. 

She could lose control entirely if she wanted, rut against her thigh to completion and have Maria do the same, but they have time on their hands. So she restrains herself, wanting to spend as much time as possible in this liminal space between desperation and slow indulgence, at least for now

(When was the last time they had time to go this slow? For more than just quiet reunions behind the locked door to their bedroom, with smothered moans and whispered affections? When they weren’t battling against alarm clocks and deadlines and an awareness of another presence in the house?)

Carol pulls away just enough to admire Maria, the dazed and breathless grin on her swollen lips, the slightly visible bruises on her skin down her neck and clavicle. She looks beautiful, and she’s unable to not tell Maria this.

Maria chuckles. “Beautiful for a forty-one year old, right?”

“No, just beautiful. Why, you’re not self-conscious are you?” Carol teases, leaning forward once more to trail kisses along Maria’s jaw. “You, who went out to bars with your hair all ruffled and frizzy and with a baby sick stain on your shirt? Who used to come home grubby and greasy from dealing with plane engines?”

“I know, I know. I’m not. But - oh it’s stupid.”

“Go on.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m weighing you down, y’know? You’re up in space for years on end - oh,” Maria moans as Carol tugs her earlobe between her teeth, an attempt to get her to shut up, but Maria continues nonetheless, albeit slightly breathless in a way that makes Carol grin with triumph, “and you could be seeing some hot humanoid alien who never ages and has so much more to offer you. It’s a universe of infinite possibility, so you could get anyone you wanted. You haven’t aged since 1989, for Christ’s sake. And instead you keep coming back here for your middle-aged girlfriend - “

“We’re the same age, dumbass. And forty-one is not _middle aged._ ”

“Could’a fooled me. And I will be. Soon.”

Carol pulls away and sees the hidden insecurity in Maria’s eyes, and shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Her heart breaks for her. She remembers when the thought of even having a girlfriend, let alone a significant other as devoted to Carol as she is, was taboo to her, back in her teens when, even though she was now firmly sceptical of the preachings of her local church and her parents, some of it managed to break through the barrier into her mind; averting her eyes became second nature, guilt was a symptom of want. Maria is the greatest indulgence and reward Carol could have never imagined, and she’s doubting that Carol could want her? 

If someone had gone back and told fourteen-year-old Carol that she could be happy, could be with someone long term, live together and raise a child, with someone like Maria, she would have been so much happier far, far sooner. But she decides to save that speech for later.

“You’re killing me, babe,” she murmurs, as she gently kisses the inside of Maria’s wrist. “I don’t want a universe of infinite possibilities. I don’t want a hot humanoid alien. I want _you._ I will continue to want you for the rest of our lives.” She looks up at Maria, who smiles back, so explicitly and unabashedly adoring, that Carol’s heart flips, like a teenager with a crush.

“So you don’t have a thousand alien wives and concubines you’ve been hiding?”

She shuts her up with a kiss.

* * *

Carol lands in an empty field not far from her home. She’s been told off by Maria a number of times for ruining nearby crops while going binary. Besides, she needs the walk to clear her head. 

She can’t think about what if one, or even worse, both are dead. 

She can’t think about how all hope of bringing them back disapparated along with the stones.

She can’t think about who she will have left in this vast universe without Maria and Monica.

And most of all, no matter what, she can’t think about falling apart.

* * *

2008

Carol paces the floor of the waiting room, her fists clenched beside her. Monica sits in front of her, her leg jogging up and down rapidly, but otherwise staying composed. 

God, how Carol envies her. She’s missed so much of Monica’s development into the young woman in front of her, from an excitable child into a calm adult with a job and a home and her shit together. All because she was thousands of light years away, protecting planets. 

She couldn’t even protect her own girlfriend. 

“Ma, can you sit down? You’re making yourself nervous.”

“I’m already nervous.”

“That’s not going to help Mom.”

“Neither is sitting down and driving myself crazy.” 

Others in the waiting room are starting to glare at her. Let them, she thinks. She has bigger things to think about than her public image.

She feels a tap on the shoulder. She spins around and roughly grabs the arm of the person behind her out of instinct, only finding that person to be a nurse, with an understanding, calm face. Not an enemy.

“Ma!”

“No, it’s alright, Ma’am,” the nurse says calmly. “Are you both here for Maria Rambeau?”

“How is she?” Carol demands.

“She’s completely fine. The injury has been dealt with and she’s awake. She’s very lucky, compared to a lot of mugging victims”

Carol exhales shakily. Her guilt hasn’t disappeared, but at least she can put some of her fears to rest. “Can we see her?”

“It’s family only right now, I’m afraid.”

“I’m her daughter.” 

“And I’m her - uh - I’m the godmother of her daughter.” Ugh, this is why Earth needs to catch up with the other hundreds of planets that have few marriage restrictions. ‘Girlfriend’ sounds too petty and childish, but ‘wife’ is inaccurate, not to mention potentially offensive and jeopardising to how well Maria is treated. 

Monica chimes in, “Ma- Aunt Carol helped raise me. My mom has no one else except us. We won’t be overcrowding or anything. We just wanna make sure she’s okay.”

“You seem kinda young to have raised her.”

Shit. That too. “I just have a good skincare routine,” she lies. 

The nurse narrows her eyes sceptically, but soon shrugs and leads them down a hallway to Maria’s room.

“Your family are here to see you, Maria,” the nurse says brightly, as Carol and Monica follow behind her.

Maria lifts her head slightly above her pillow to look at Carol and Monica as they enter the room and smiles weakly. She looks exhausted, enveloped by white hospital sheets and with wires and tubes attached to her arms. But not fragile. Never fragile. She’d probably kill Carol for even implying it. Even so, Carol still wants to fly her back home, wrap her up in a blanket and never let her out of her sight or arms until the end of time. (Then again, Maria would kill her for saying that too. And she’d probably get restless and bored, as Carol would if their positions were swapped.)

“Hey,” she says, while the nurse leaves and closes the door behind her. “You two look terrible.”

Monica scoffs, taking a seat beside the bed, as Carol stands next to her, too antsy to sit. “Of course we do. We’ve been worried about you. Also, we’re not the ones who got mugged and stabbed.”

“ _Lightly_ stabbed. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Carol finds herself grinning. “Did you get a few punches in?”

“You know it. Now sit down. You’re hovering. It’s putting me on edge.”

Carol complies, moving the chair forward so she can hold Maria’s hand, gripping it tightly in hers, as though she could fade away and Carol could lose her at any point. She almost did and wouldn’t have known it. 

She was at home when they received the phone call, sleeping in hers and Maria’s bed after an exhausting mission, Monica watching TV in the living room, and Maria had gone out to get takeout for them. She didn’t hear the phone ring, and neither would have Monica if she had the tv the tiniest bit louder. The next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake by a panicked Monica, and they were driving together down to the hospital. Mom has been hurt. “You scared me, baby. Scared both of us.”

“I’m _fine_ , seriously. But you are going to crush my hand if you don’t let go.” 

Carol reluctantly loosens her grip, but still keeps her hand on top of Maria’s. She strokes the back of her hand with her thumb, her eyes focused on that singular spot, blinking fiercely to prevent tears from forming. That’s the last thing Monica and Maria need, and she can feel both of them watching her.

After a few moments of silence, Monica clears her throat and stands up. “I’m gonna get coffee. Ma, do you want some? Mom? I don’t know if you’re allowed coffee, but can I get you a snack? Chocolate? Skittles? Fruit salad? Questionable egg sandwich?”

Maria smiles. “No thanks, baby. And no coffee for your Ma, either. That’s like feeding a gremlin after midnight.”

“Hey!”

Monica grins. “Right. Water it is then.” She kisses Maria’s forehead and smiles sympathetically at Carol, then quickly leaves the room in a way that makes Carol’s suspicions heighten.

“Why do I feel like she left us alone on purpose?”

“Because she’s too smart for her own good. And we can both see you’re on the verge of having a breakdown.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. You’re shaking, Carol, look at you.” Carol lifts up her hand into view. Huh. There it is, little tremors making her hand visibly vibrate. That’s unexpected. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nothing to talk about. You got hurt, I’m worried like any reasonable person would be. But you’re fine, so I’ll be fine.”

Maria weakly lifts her arm out invitingly. “Come here,” she says. 

“Isn’t that sorta unhygienic?”

“I don’t care.” 

Carol takes off her boots and jacket, so she is at least slightly less of a health hazard, and climbs into bed next to Maria, who wraps her arm around Carol so that she can play with a strand of hair, stroking it over and over with a gentleness that makes Carol’s eyes sting despite herself. “Now. Where’s your head at, sweetheart?”

Carol shakes her head. “It’s just been a long, gruelling six years without you. It sucks.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s all part of the superhero gig, right?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean I can’t hate it. Some superhero I am if I can’t even protect you from one mugging.”

“You were at home. Napping. There’s nothing you could have done.”

“Gone with you? Not wasted time sleeping?”

“You were dead on your feet. I never would have let you come with me. Did something happen before you arrived here?”

“No. Yes. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I - I badly underestimated the guy I was fighting. One of Ronan’s old henchmen who broke away from his agenda to target any planet he saw fit and decimate their entire population I managed to save most of them but -” She breaks off with a sob. Maria holds her tightly

“Oh, honey. You can’t be expected to save everyone.”

“I should, though. That’s what I do. I’m the only one with powers like these, so I should - and now you’ve paid the price too.” Carol sniffs, roughly wiping the tears from her cheek with her sleeve. “Sorry. You’re hurt.”

“You hold the weight of the entire universe on your shoulders. Of course, you’re going to have a breakdown every once in a while. It’s only expected it would be now.”

“No. It can’t be now. You’re hurt. I need to - I need to be supportive. I can’t just collapse every time I think -”

“You don’t need to,’ Maria interrupts firmly. “You don’t need to do this alone. Just let me be the supportive one occasionally, alright?”

Carol nods and allows the dam to break, heaving sobs against Maria’s hospital gown. Soon, Monica finds a way to squeeze herself next to Carol, and a second pair of arms wrap around her, grounding her.

* * *

Carol thinks about the Avengers, the palpable self-loathing and blame in the air when she arrived at the compound.

They seemed ridiculous and petty to her when she arrived, which she realises now is hypocritical. At the time they seemed useless. They tried and failed, and now put more effort into arguing and scepticism than actually getting off their asses and doing something. Of course Carol had wanted to face Thanos alone. Self-hatred and guilt is enough of a burden without other people’s there as well.

They proved themselves useful eventually, but Carol could see the loss of hope in their eyes after Thanos was killed. If she does have to find a way to bring her family back, this time she will do it alone. Regardless of what Maria said, sometimes alone is best.

She could not believe this was the group that saved Earth on multiple occasions.

* * *

2012

Carol stares dumb-founded at the TV. 

_“...Witnesses say that among those fighting were Tony Stark, ex-CEO of Stark Industries and also known as The Iron Man, and Captain America, the Star Spangled Man who was unfrozen mere months ago.”_

“Fuck,” Carol breathes. 

_“Tony Stark was able to remove the missile, which then triggered the deaths of the remaining Alien Robots. Secretary of Defence has not yet given any comment as to -”_

Maria puts the TV on mute. “You okay, babe -”

“So let me get this straight,” Carol grits out. “There is an _alien invasion_ of Earth, and not just Earth but, _New York City_ , and it’s so serious that Fury even launches a _nuclear fucking missile_ at innocent civilians, and he doesn’t even call me?!”

“I thought you told him to only contact you in an emergency?”

“In what way is this not an emergency?!”

“Well, you saw who was fighting them,” Monica points out, nodding towards the TV, which was still showing clips of the battle. (Carol rolls her eyes at this term the news dubbed it. Hardly a battle at all. More of an incident, or a kerfuffle. She's seen worse bar fights in her time.) “A billionaire with a flying metal suit! A world-renowned scientist! Captain America himself! A literal god! Whoever the other two are!” 

“Yeah, they seem pretty competent,” Maria agrees. “They certainly dealt with it better than a nuclear missile would have.”

“Is that where the bar is now?” 

“Look, I’m guessing Fury assembled this team himself right? So that he wouldn’t have to keep bothering you every time there are aliens on Earth. Also, it’s not like other planets have superheroes like them, right? You’re still needed.”

Carol grunts, resting her head on Maria’s shoulder. “They’re not superheroes. I’m a superhero. These are just old men in fancy dress costumes. And a hot redhead in an impractically designed outfit. And a green monster with no regard for property damage.”

“Now you’re just being petty. One of them did launch a giant missile into space, Ma. And Black Widow does have useful skills. Did you see the clip of her jumping onto that hoverboard thing? ”

“I could have taken them all down in five minutes. Those clowns included."

Maria sighs. “Well, if they turn out to be as awful as you say, Carol, I’m sure Fury will bring you back to clean up their mess. Alright?”

“Fine.”

Monica reaches for the remote and unmutes the TV. The news announcer continues… “So, the debate continues. But whether they are dangerous vigilantes or heroes, the people of New York feel that they owe their lives to the Avengers.”

“Hold on - Avengers?”

“Uh, yeah. Makes no sense, right?” Monica scoffs. “Sort of implies they do nothing to prevent the actual disaster and only _then_ do they kill the bad guys. Kinda useless, huh?”  
Carol glances over at Maria, who is grinning proudly, a knowing glint in her eye. She grins back, then turns back to the TV. _Fury, you sentimental son of a bitch._

* * *

2018

Here she is. The Avengers failed. Carol failed. And now she’s back on Earth, outside of her house, sick with dread.

She bangs on the door and yells. “Maria! Honey!”

The house is empty and lifeless, but the truck isn’t here either. Maybe Maria is in town buying groceries?

“Monica?! You home?!”

Why would she be? She has a job and a boyfriend (potentially, if things haven’t changed in six years) and a home in Chicago now, and isn’t aware that Carol is home yet. The rational side of her brain knows this, but that side isn’t as loud as the panic and fear in her head. 

She finds the spare key under the doormat and enters the house. She rushes into every room of the house, looking for something, anything to show they’re alright. Monica’s room is empty and clean, so she obviously hasn’t visited in a while. Maria’s bed is unmade. There are still dirty dishes in the kitchen. And there is no sign of any of those dark, hateful, tell-tale ashes of Thanos’ victims. Unless they’ve been cleared away somehow?

No. Don’t be stupid, Carol.

She goes outside and decides to wait for Maria on the porch, in case she’ll come back soon. She sits down on the steps, her foot tapping erratically on the ground as she waits. 

And waits. 

And waits.

An hour, then two, then three hours go by. The sky starts to darken and the air turns cold. Carol exhales, shaking, rubbing her arms for warmth, considering whether to just go inside and wait until morning, then immediately feels guilty for even considering giving up so quickly. 

When should she give up, then? In a day? A week? She also has a duty to helping the Avengers coming up with a strategy for the chaos on Earth. She has a duty to the thousands of planet who don’t have people protecting them, who will be victims of those who will take advantage of half the population disappearing, of the anarchy and the lack of precedence for this type of scenario. 

_There’s nothing I can do. They’re gone. They’re all gone and my family is gone and there’s nothing I can do and everything I could have done and this is all my fault - “_

‘Carol?”

She looks up from the ground, having placed her head between her knees in a frustrated attempt to steer away panic, and sees through her blurred vision the figures of Maria and Monica standing over her. “Oh my god.” She leaps up and embraces the two of them tightly into her arms. “You’re okay,” she whispers disbelievingly.

“Yeah. I'm sorry, I should have been home for you. I just went to get Monica from the airport.”

“First flight that was available,” Monica chimes in. “It’s been hellish to try and get home what with… everything. God, how long have you been out here? You’re shivering, Ma.” 

“Long enough to start panicking.” Carol pulls away to properly look at them, blinking away the tears in her eyes. “I came home and no one was there. I thought -”

“It’s fine.” Maria wipes away the tears on Carol's face. “We’re all fine okay? Jesus, let’s go inside, I’m freezing.”

“Wait - can we just -” she feels the heat rising to her face. “Stay here. Just a little while longer.“ They understand her too well, and she’s soon enveloped once more in their warmth, a gentle, consistent reminder that they’re here, they’re alive, and how lucky she is.

She knows it won’t be long before she’s dragging herself back to the Avengers, doing what she must to fulfil her duty as Captain Marvel. But for now, Carol Danvers stays in Louisiana, surrounded by her family, and that's enough.


End file.
